The Raider Read online

  He leaned forward until he was nose to nose with her. “I’d like to remind you that I saved you from Pitman, that I saved Abigail’s neck, and today I probably saved you from hanging. That doesn’t sound very cowardly to me.”

  She rubbed her bruised arms. “I don’t like your methods.”

  “We can’t all be your romantic Raider. Besides, I thought you were convinced he was dead.”

  “Don’t say that! Let’s go to my house and—”

  “Not on your life. You aren’t stepping foot out of this door today. I don’t trust you not to go directly to this admiral and challenge him to a fistfight. I plan to keep you alive day by day. Now, tell me what you have in mind when you talk of patriotism.”

  But no matter how much he coaxed, Jessica wouldn’t tell him anything.

  * * *

  Jessica awoke with a sick stomach, an aching head and a tongue made of hide glue. Her first thought was that she would never trust Alexander. He had no intention of talking to her about patriotism. He’d only wanted to get her drunk so that she was too befuddled to fight what had been done to her.

  Slowly, keeping her head steady, she threw back the covers of Alexander’s bed. It’s a wonder he doesn’t sleep under pink satin, she thought.

  “Good morning,” Alex called from the doorway.

  “It’s not good. Alex, I hate that coat,” she groaned.

  He grinned. “It’s new. They’re lovers’ knots and pineapples. I rather like it. Want something to eat?”

  “Where are my boots?”

  “Here. Jess, I think you should rest today.”

  “Of course I should. Just sleep the afternoon away. How are the children?”

  “Eleanor is coping fine. She and I raided the larder and there’s more than enough food for them.”

  “Taggerts don’t—”

  “Accept charity, I know. You want some help?”

  Jess pulled on the second boot. “I have to go fishing. I have to—” She stopped suddenly because she remembered her ship was no more. “Did they burn her?”

  Alex sat beside her on the bed and took one of her hands. “Yes, Jess, they did. I met Admiral Westmoreland—he’s quartered himself and ten of his men at the Wentworths’—and I think I’ve persuaded him that you were never really involved.”

  She jerked away from him. “That won’t bring back my ship.”

  “No, but if you stay away from the Raider, it might help.”

  She stood, grabbed her head and stomach to steady them, then glared at him. “What do you understand? All you know is…is lovers’ knots and pineapples. For all anyone knows the Raider is dead. He’s dead, my ship is burned and I—” She stopped and turned away, but she’d break before she cried before this man who looked like a nest of fireflies.

  “Jess…” Alex began, moving closer to her.

  “Don’t you touch me.” She moved away from him, unlatched the door and left the room. She didn’t pause in the common room either, just called, “Come with me, Nathaniel,” as she passed and kept going. She refused to look at the townspeople who stopped and gawked at her. They were afraid of her now, afraid some of the trouble she was in would touch them.

  She paused for a moment by the blacksmith shop. Ethan Ledbetter, bare forearms glistening with sweat, his sweaty shirt plastered to his back muscles, was hammering on a hot horseshoe—and Abigail was standing in the shadows, looking at him as a hungry child looked at a Christmas feast.

  Hot tears came to Jessica’s eyes. Was the reason the Raider hadn’t appeared because Ethan now had Abigail?

  “Jessie?” Nate said from beside her. “Mr. Alexander is coming.”

  “Then we are going,” Jess said angrily and started walking quickly.

  She worked herself without stopping for four days. At the end of the first day, Eleanor had given her a piece of her mind.

  “You may try to kill yourself if you want, but you’re not going to kill Nathaniel.” Eleanor had carried the exhausted child upstairs.

  So Jess went out alone. She threw nets into the sea and pulled them back. She nailed together an old pushcart and hawked the fish she caught about town. Many of the people were afraid to buy from her. Her name was tainted now and everyone was afraid of the admiral and his soldiers.

  The admiral walked the streets of Warbrooke from early until late. His soldiers jumped at every sound. One of them shot a little girl’s puppy when it ran in front of him unexpectedly. The taverns by the wharf were closed.

  Warbrooke was a town under military rule.

  Three times Jess tried to talk to men about freedom, about protesting what was happening, but no one would listen to her.

  At the end of the fourth day, she was at the little cove north of her house. Her hands were raw and blistered; she was cold; she was hungry. She thought of the children at home and she gathered her net for one last cast.

  “Jessie.”

  At first she thought it was only the wind saying her name.

  “Jessie.”

  She turned on her heel and looked into the darkness where the land formed a little cliff on one side of the cove. She saw nothing at first, but then out of the darkness came a hand, a hand extended toward her, palm up.

  She ran to him.

  The Raider held her in his arms so tightly her ribs nearly cracked. “Jessie, Jessie, Jessie,” he whispered over and over, clutching her, his face in her hair.

  “You’re here. You’re all right,” Jess gasped, tears in her eyes and in her voice. “Let me see. Let me see where you were hurt.” Frantically, she began pulling his shirt from his pants, eager to see that he was indeed unharmed.

  “Let me help you,” the Raider chuckled as he unbuttoned his shirt.

  “I can’t see. It’s too dark.” She was so near to bursting into tears. She hadn’t cried when they’d burned her boat and she hadn’t cried when the people had ostracized her, but now she didn’t know if she could hold back any longer.

  “Then use your hands,” the Raider said softly. “Here, Jessie, I’m not worth crying over.” He pulled away from her long enough to turn his back to her. “The gunpowder sent some rocks flying. Feel the ridges? They’re healed now.”

  She ran her hands over his strong back, feeling the scars. She remembered all too well that he had received those while protecting her. The flood of tears could not be held back any longer. She buried her face in the skin of his back, mashing her nose against his spine, her mouth open, tears coming in a deluge. Her hands dug into his skin at his waist.

  “Jessie, my darling,” he whispered, turning and pulling her to him. “You have more to cry about than anyone. Go ahead and cry.”

  “I thought you were dead. Or married.”

  “Neither,” he said as he picked her up, then sat with her in his arms, holding her close, her tears wetting his neck, his chest, his back. “I wouldn’t marry a silly nit like Abigail. I want only the best.”

  Jessica began to cry harder.

  He stroked her hair, caressed her back, then his hand moved down her hip and onto her thighs. “And I certainly wouldn’t be stupid enough to let someone talk me into saying I’d slept with her when I hadn’t.”

  “She loves him,” Jess gasped. “I saw her.”

  “You saw Abigail and Ethan, not me.” He began to unbutton her shirt.

  “There was blood on my hands. Everyone said you were dead. Alex said you should be dead.” Her tears came harder.

  “What does he know?” He pulled her shirttail from her pants, then unbuckled her belt. “Why do you spend so much time around him anyway? That coat he had on today isn’t good for your eyes. It’ll give you squints.”

  “It’s lovers’ knots,” she sobbed. “Did you know they burned my ship?”

  “Ah yes, my darling.” He drew her to him and lifted her up as he began sliding the loose, baggy pants over her hips. “There was nothing I could do to stop them. It happened too quickly. I hear you spent the night with Montgomery.”

  Sh